


Big Dogs

by usetheforceponyboy



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Blood, Bromance, Fights, Other, Werewolves, Wrestling, the shield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usetheforceponyboy/pseuds/usetheforceponyboy
Summary: Werewolves exist, and the only steady work those infected can get is by partaking in gruesome underground fights, and these are very much real. Within this ruthless world, a rare Pack is formed. As brothers, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins, and Dean Ambrose will do what they can to survive if only to fight again tomorrow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains graphic descriptions of harm being done to animals, even if they are werewolves, not unlike what would occur during a dog fight (which I do not condone). If you find this (understandably) upsetting, then I would suggest sitting this one out.

           A spray of blood glitters for a moment under the fluorescent lights before hitting a few people in the front row, just behind the chicken wire cage. It splatters across their surgical masks and they don’t even flinch. They are too mesmerized by the two beasts whirling and tearing each other apart within.  
The audience is largely faceless, literally. They were given the surgical masks as they walked into the venue, so as to not to contract the disease the performers have already gotten. The biological threat isn’t enough to deter fans of the spectacle, though- to see half person, half wolf creatures nearly die night after night is too much entertainment to miss.  
          The werewolves are massive, about twice the size of their human forms. One, with dark brown fur and a distinctive gray right arm, picks the other other up and forces him against one side of the cage, the toes of his paws longer than a regular wolf’s and still with opposable thumbs. The other wolf, tan and white, snaps his jaws and tears at the right eye of the one holding him. The door of the cage is opened, to let two other wolves run in, one black and the other light brown. They are quickly on either side of the wolf holding the opponent up, and pin his arms with their teeth. With his own teeth the center wolf clamps down on his throat. The opponent whimpers. All together, they flip him over their heads onto his back, a sickening crack bursts from his neck as they do so. He lays there, bleeding out, his tongue lolling from his mouth, and begins shrinking back into a human. A bell is rung. The crowd roars.

           Only moments later, the bar is empty, the audience having been quickly shuffled out before seeing the fighters fully return to their human forms. Something about “keeping their privacy.”  
           The owner, Billy, of Billy’s Tavern, short but built substantially, opens the cage and throws a pair of balled up boxers and their respective share of the cash to each of the fighters as he shuffles to the other side with a push broom. He’s careful not to look at them directly as they’re in the process of changing back. Gray arm to Roman, tan to Daniel, black to Seth, and light brown to Dean. Daniel stays unmoving in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the ring.  
           Roman struggles to form words as his face shrinks back into a human one. He grunts and points at Billy until finally the owner peers up at him under his bushy eyebrows. “Paper towel,” Roman manages, “or rag.” He points to his torn up eye.  
           Nearby, Seth, already mostly changed back, pulls on his boxers and makes his way to the cage door.  
          “Just behind the bar, next to the register,” Billy calls to Seth. “You sure your friend don’t need it more?” He asks Roman.  
         “Dean!” Roman barks, “Check on Daniel.”  
          Dean slowly stands and makes his way to Daniel, still unmoved. He leans over him and gently pats his cheek. “You good?” He asks. Seth walks past them to Roman with the roll of paper towels. Billy starts sweeping up the fur, pocketing the occasional tooth to sell as a souvenir.  
          Daniel gurgles, more blood spilling over his cheek onto the mat. Roman takes a paper towel and folds it, dabbing at his eye as his eyelid slowly grows back. “Dean, put on some pants. Daniel, what the heck did you do to my eye?”  
          Billy doesn’t get the joke. “What he do to your eye? What’d you do to his neck? I heard that pop back at the bar!”  
          Daniel coughs and gains the strength to lift his arm and wipe his mouth, though he’s still lying where he fell. “Broke,” He says hoarsely before coughing again.  
         “Broke!” Billy exclaims as he looks at Roman, shocked.  
         “‘S fine, prob’ly jus feel it in th’ morning.” Daniel finally begins to get up.  
         “Guys, help him.” Roman orders. Obediently, Dean and Seth rush either side of Daniel, and help him get up. The underwear that has been on his chest falls to the ground, and Seth picks it up. As Dean holds Daniel up, he helps him put it on. Embarrassed, Billy begins sweeping again.  
        “Thanks,” Daniel grunts.  
        “It’s not right,” Billy mumbles.  
        “What isn’t?” Roman asks, calmly, pulling on his own shorts.  
        “Goin’ three on one like that. Two on one, sure, okay, that’s fine enough entertainment, but breakin’ a guy’s neck? That’s sadistic. Torture porn.”  
        “Why? He broke mine,” Roman smiles, “Plenty of times.”  
        “And I’m okay,” Interjects Daniel, “see?” He slowly moves his head back and forth, as if performing a magic trick.  
         Seth pipes up, “You’re acting like this is the first fight you ever held.”  
        “Maybe it’s not,” He replies, “but it don’t mean I have to like it. I can tear this cage down and hire a deejay to do 80s night, like everyone else, and make just as much.”  
        “And only clean up about half as much blood afterwards,” says Roman, “come on man, at least the crowds are orderly at these things. You’re too old to be breaking up bar brawls night after night.” He claps him on the shoulder, “and I gotta feed my pack somehow.”  
         Billy glances at Seth and Dean holding up Daniel. Seth is beaming, as he does every time Roman mentions his pack. He can’t help it.  
         And the owner can’t help but smile back. “Put some gotdang clothes on and git outta here, ya perverts.” He chuckles and they laugh a little alongside him. Even through the pain, Daniel manages a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

_ After a flashy and intense TV intro, a young woman with eyes a bit too large and a bit too green, her skin the slightest shade of rose, looks intensely into the camera. “Welcome to Crossed Wires. I’m your host, Silene Eyebright. Yesterday the Sierra Institute of Lycanthropy reported that there is evidence among werewolf populations of forming groups of three or more, referring to them as “Packs”. With me today to discuss the implications of such a finding are Ywain Nostro of the Phalanx Society of Night Creatures,” a well-dressed man with pale skin and red eyes nods, “and Renee Melvin of The Alford Human-Magical Animal Relations Group,” the human woman nods, too, “Ywain, Renee, welcome to the show.” _

_ “Thank you for having us,” Ywain says. _

_ “It’s a pleasure to be here,” Renee joins. _

_ “Now, Renee,” Starts Silene, “Your group has said that the existence of packs poses no threat to society whatsoever.” _

_ “That is correct, frankly we see no reason that friendships between those infected should be any issue. People have every right to have to form such relationships.” _

_ “Now Ywain, The Phalanx Society disagrees with that notion.” _

_ “Yes,” Ywain begins, “The evidence that the Institute has presented to the public suggests that the bonds formed within these packs are stronger than your regular friendships. They are more animalistic, and that is worrisome to us at Phalanx.” _

_ “But the evidence also suggests that it could be a familial bond,” Renee interrupts, “which isn’t too surprising since the laws in place concerning werewolves alienates them from their family and friends.” _

_ Silene looks widely at Renee. “So you are suggesting that these packs are more a result of the human side, rather than the animal?” _

_ “Precisely.” _

_ “If they did echo human relationships then I doubt that the Institute would have referred to them as packs,” counters Ywain. “They’ve chosen the nomenclature that they have to accurately reflect their findings, and that should be considered as we discuss the implications of these findings.” _

_ “And what would the implications suggest?” Asks Silene. _

_ “Well, packs in the animal kingdom operate on the basis of hierarchies and territories. If one of these packs takes over an area that they deem a territory, then that would pose a danger to those living within it. They could be casualties in a war over said territory, or attacked by the pack themselves over ownership.” _

_ “But packs are shown to be rare, and not an entirely new concept in werewolf communities,” interrupts Renee, “the Institute has only just discovered their existence, which means they must be a well-kept secret. If the things you suggest are possible, wouldn’t they be a larger issue by now? So far the evidence doesn’t support any of your accusations.” _

_ “There isn’t enough research done on this subject yet, but Phalanx believes the risks outweigh what evidence there is.” _

_ “But what more can we take from them?” Renee pleads. _

_ Silene cuts in, “On that note we’re going to cut to commercial. After the break we’ll see what more Renee and Ywain has to say on the existence of packs, right here on Crossed Wires. _

* * *

 

The four now fully dressed werewolves step out into the alley behind the Billy’s. Daniel stretches his neck, no evidence of it having been broken only an hour before remains. 

“He was right, Dan. That was a pretty rough break,” Roman says, “Can we get you some Grand Coney?”

“No, no. I should be heading back,” Answers Daniel.

“Back where?”

“Hilton.” He smiles. “Heh, I mean Hill Top.”

“Hill Top takes wolves?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, they’re fine. Where’re you guys at?”

“I don’t know. It’s got a clown on the sign.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“I think it’s literally Clown Motel,” chimes in Seth.

“That’s awful.”

Roman interjects, “It’s better than the street.”

Dean looks exasperated. “Barely.” 

Roman puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s a roof and a bed.” He walks over to Daniel. “Here,” he says in a low voice, as Seth and Dean stand anxiously near the street. He pulls out his cash and discreetly hands him a couple of bills. “It was a rough fight, but you held your own pretty well.”

“Roman.”

“For your trouble.”

Daniel nods and pockets the cash. “Have a good one!” He calls as Roman joins the others. They all wave back. Daniel takes out a surgical mask and slides it over his face.

As Roman, Seth, and Dean walk they do the same. Roman catches a look of himself in one of the shop windows. As if it wasn’t enough that all werewolves had to receive a small tattoo on their cheek of a small “w” fitted in a large “W” all within a circle, they had to wear surgical masks whenever they went out for “the public’s health safety”, even when studies showed that it was the bite that was hazardous, in wolf form. It was just a more overt way to ostracise them. Roman looks back at two guys he’s walking with, and smiles underneath the mask. Having a pack made everything so much more bearable.

As they pass a chinese restaurant, Roman raises his voice in song. “I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand-”

Dean whirls around instantly, eyes wide. “Stop!”

“-Walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain”

“You do this every time we walk by here! It’s not funny!”

Seth laughs and joins Roman, “He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook’s-”

“I’m going to leave you guys, I swear to God, I’m getting a new pack!”

“Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein!” Dean starts walking quickly ahead of them, and they both chase him as they go “Awoooooo!” As a matter of fact, it does start drizzling, as the three crazy werewolves run down the shining, empty streets.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

At the Grand Coney, Roman watches benignly, picking at a fry or two, as Dean and Seth chow down nearly their entire earnings from the fight in food. After Dean finishes a coney in two bites he says, “Guys, come on. Do I have to tell you to chew your food everytime we come here?” 

Seth stops just before fitting half the burger into his mouth, takes a smaller bite, and chews thoughtfully as he stares at Roman, before answering, “You fought way harder than us tonight, Rome, you should eat more.” Roman smiles and picks up his own burger, and eats it in the same way as Seth did.

“That you did.” 

Their heads jerked to the source of the voice. Baron sits alone at a booth along the opposite wall, arms stretch across the back of the seat and his hood drawn up over his bald head. He slowly gets out and brings his food over to their booth, sliding next to Roman. The three stares warily at him as he starts eating his scrambled eggs.

“Cool fight tonight,” Baron begins as he spreads jelly over a piece of toast, “I thought Bryan was going to shit himself in the cage.”

“Thank you, I guess,” says Roman.

“So, I guess you’re wondering why I’m here. I can see Rollins is itching to know, but you’d bite his nuts off if he were rude.” Seth glares, and shifts his weight in his seat. Roman shoots him a look, and Baron smiles. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d guys could join me for a scrap at Full Moon Fisticuffs tomorrow at Mully’s.”

“Full Moon Fisticuffs?” Asks Dean, “That’s the stupidest name for a fight I’ve ever heard.”

“Dreadful, isn’t it? But, it’s sure to be a packed house, especially since I’ve already taken the liberty of telling them you’d be there.”

Roman looks coolly at him. “I don’t like my boys fighting two days in a row; we try to at least have a day to recover in between fights.”

“Your “boys” barely did anything tonight. I’m sure they can stand their ground perfectly well tomorrow. Also,” Baron adds, “the haul from this could pay for whatever $20 a night shit hole you’re staying at for a month after.”

“It’s that big?” Dean asks. “Why?”

Baron leans in. “The fact that you three are a pack has been a big draw, ever since that stupid Sierra Institute finally found out that packs exist. It’s big news, and the crowds want to see it in action.” The three exchange a nervous glance around the table. “Why do you think so many people have been coming to your fights lately? It’s not because you’re any good.”

“Why do they care about whether we’re a pack or not?” Seth asks.

Baron shrugs. “Who knows? Anything new about werewolves is fascinating to them. So what do you say?”

Roman frowns. “And you’re fighting?”

“Yes, me and a couple other guys versus you three.”

“Who are the other the other two you’ll be with?”

“Does it matter? It’ll be a fair fight. Bit more difficult though, it won’t be like the three on one fights you guys are used to.”

“We’ll have to talk it over-”

“We’ll do it,” Dean interjects. Roman glances at him. “He’s right, me ‘n Seth didn’t do too much tonight, we can probably take them on.”

Roman sighs. “Seth, you want to?”

Seth glares at Baron. “Yeah. I really wanna.”

“Excellent!” Baron stands and picks up his plate. “I’m really excited. Be there seven o’ clock at Mulligan’s. You know the drill.”

“Yup,” Roman confirms.

Baron grins, “See you then!” He picks up his plate and returns to his booth.

Roman sighs, and the three anxiously finish their food in silence.

 

A train rumbles by just outside the rooms of Clown Motel, and shakes the window just as Roman scrubs the last of the fight off in the shower. As he steps out of the bathroom, he smiles. 

Seth is already passed out, stretched over nearly the entirety of the only bed. Dean’s got the TV on, watching it with a leg hanging off the side. Roman takes a pillow and throws it on the floor.

“He won’t learn if you’re gonna keep giving him the space.” 

Roman chuckles and throws the pillow back on to the bed, just before throwing his body full force onto Seth. Seth doesn’t even budge, but Dean is knocked off from the force of the jump. In retaliation, he bodyslams the both of them. They laugh as Roman barely reaches to turn off the lamp. They soon fall asleep as well, right where they are, in the light of the TV.

 

Roman wakes up just as the sky begins turning blue. The morning light softly illuminates the faces of his pack; it’s rare to see anything so peaceful. Here they don’t have to wear surgical masks, and here, with Seth’s hair laying messily over his right cheek, and Dean sleeping on his right side, they no longer have the state sanctioned tattoo. He touches Dean’s head, softly rubbing his short, dirty blond hair. The TV catches his attention.

It’s the morning news. Something about new experiments being done, and werewolves. He gets up and leans in. The Sierra Institute is making some headway in discovering a cure for lycanthropy, possibly even making a vaccination. His heart jumps. He breathes heavily, and they say it. He gets the number and writes it down on the receipt from last night. He puts it in his wallet, and turns off the TV. He looks back at his pack, undisturbed in the throes of slumber. He sighs, and carefully gets back into bed, wrapping his arm around them and cuddling them tightly as he falls back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Lashley and McIntyre!” Dean bursts in to the backstage area where Seth and Roman have begun transforming. “It’s Lashley and McIntyre that Corbin’s got with him!”

“Yeah, Dean,” Roman lets out in short gasps between gritting his teeth as his legs painfully stretch into wolf ones. “Who’d you think he was gonna bring? He didn’t tell us who he was coming with last night.”

“That’s bullshit, I was never going to fight McIntyre again.”

Seth takes a gulp of air as his arms grow. “You volunteered us, dude.”

“That’s because-” Dean sucks in his lips. “Well, Corbin was pissing me off. That’s on me.”

“Okay.” Roman’s face began lengthening grotesquely. “Let’s get this over with.” A thin field of dark brown fur covered his body like velvet.

“How’s the crowd looking?” Seth asks.

“Wall to wall. At least he was truthful about that.”

“Well, hurry up and get changed!” Seth’s own face is transforming now. “We gotta start soon.”

 

They enter all together to their names being announced, Seth and Dean following behind Roman. Baron, Bobby, and Drew are already in the ring, one that was larger than most venues. The three make very striking wolves compared to the plainish coats of Roman, Seth, and Dean. Bobby’s coat is brindle while Drew has a traditional gray wolf’s, with orange bursts scattered within. They both prowl menacingly around the ring while Baron stands at the other entrance, astonishingly white, especially under the fluorescent lights. His mouth lays open and panting, in a big smile. 

The bell rings.

Bobby and Drew immediately jump on Seth and Dean before either of them blink. Bobby’s got Seth pinned by the neck against the wall. Dean catches Drew and the two lock jaws in an iron hold whipping the other’s head back and forth. 

Roman is caught in the gaze of Baron, and neither of them move. Baron just keeps panting and smiling. His heart fills with absolute dread. They’ve planned something. 

Seth whimpers, and Roman breaks eye contact to look at him. Just as he raises himself on his hind legs to help him, a white flash. His head is in Baron’s mouth, his face being chewed to bits before he’s had a chance to get his bearings. All Roman can do is scratch and kick as much as he can.

With sudden brute strength, Drew flings Dean incredibly against the other wall. Dean slides to the ground, knocked out cold. Bobby smashes Seth into the cage, and he also falls, disoriented, but awake. Drew and Bobby also leap onto Roman.

Roman tries to close his eyes against the almost needle sharpness of Baron’s teeth, grinding again and again into his jaw and cheeks. Just as he seems to be making some headway with the scratching, his paw is in someone else’s mouth, and his arm is jerked out of its socket. Just after that, one of his hind legs is in another’s mouth, and it snaps underneath powerful jaws. Roman finds himself in hell, unable to scream.

Seth’s eyes begin to focus, and he begins to concentrate on the other side of the ring. He witnesses with horror as the three wolves tear apart Roman like a dog toy. He also sees Dean lying still across from him. He runs and jumps on Dean, trying to get him up. Dean opens his eyes a bit, before closing them again. Seth runs and takes a flying leap on Baron, breaking his hold on Roman’s head for a bit. Baron snarls and jumps up, throwing Seth behind him.

Dean lifts up his head, and finally sees what has been going on. He also gets up and leaps, sinking his teeth into Baron’s neck. Seth tries to keep both Bobby and Drew off an unsettlingly still Roman, who is starting to shrink and lose some fur.

The bell should’ve been rung at this point, and the crowd realizes this and boos, chucking beer bottles at the cage. Broken glass and beer rain over Seth as he tries to keep the two beasts off his alpha. He is unable to, as Drew takes a huge bite into Roman’s shoulder. When Seth attacks him, Bobby tears with huge claws into Roman’s belly.

Dirty and extremely unlawful; it’s near impossible for a werewolf to recover from being injured while transforming back. The crowd knows this, and almost start rioting. Finally, the bell rings. Bobby and Drew stop, while Baron lets Dean go. They trot confidently around Dean and Seth, shaking where they stand, while staring at Roman. People are screaming, more bottles crash against the cage, and some are even thrown over the top. The three howl in celebration, barely above the shouts. Blood spreads slowly around Roman.

Baron, Drew, and Bobby keep dancing happily in unison out of the cage and outside the emergency exit to transform back and collect their haul.

The audience angrily shuffles out as Dean and Seth slowly walk towards Roman. Seth licks his face, now nearly unrecognizable. Roman convulses and changes a little in jerks, but to them, it’s unclear whether he’d ever be human again.


	5. Chapter 5

Back as humans, Seth and Dean drag Roman out of the emergency exit into the alleyway, and lay him on the street.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK.” Dean punches the wall. “Those bastards! Those motherfuckers! I’ll-I’ll-” He looks back at Seth, kneeling next to Roman, his face in his hands. He breaks down too, hugging himself as he leans against the wall. “It’s all my fault.” His voice goes up an octave or two. “He’s going to die and it’s all my fault. The fight- I should’ve known that-”

“Dean, how’re we gonna get back?” Seth says through sobs.

“I should’ve known that they’d try to pull something-”

“We gotta get back, or he’s-”

“I know!” Dean walks toward Seth. “I know, but, it’s not like we can get a cab or anything.” He kneels over Roman as well, and they touch foreheads as they cry.

The emergency door opens. A woman with wild hair the orange of a sunset and eyes that shone green and gold even in shadow stands in the light. “Do yeh guys need help?”

They look at her in shock, tears glittering upon their blotchy faces. Instinctively, they shrink a little under the gaze of a human, and reach for their surgical masks.

“Put those away and talk to me,” she orders, “do I need to call an ambulance?”

“N-no,” Dean blubbers, “we can’t afford that.”

“They wouldn’t help us anyway,” Seth adds.

“Well, how ‘bout I try.” She disappears back into the bar.

Seth and Dean look at each other, and Dean wipes his snot away on his sleeve. She bursts through the door again, a hoodie over her Mulligan’s tank top and a tiny first aid kit. She opens it and takes out an antiseptic wipe, and begins cleaning Roman’s face. “You don’t need to wear those masks in front of me, we’re equals. I’m not entirely human either.” The wipe seems to clean up more than it’s supposed to, and his face begins to heal, and look more human. Seth and Dean gasp in excitement. “I’m a fourth Fae, on my mum’s side, so I’m a bit witchy.” She takes out the cloth tape. “Can you hold him up, please?” Dean jumps in and holds him up by the shoulders. She wraps the tape as best she can around his stomach, chest, and shoulder. Even though it isn’t much, the bleeding stops, and he changes even more. Roman’s breathing also becomes more regular.

“Th-thank you so much!” Seth is moved to tears again, this time out of happiness. Dean laughs and rubs his face in Roman’s hair.

“He still needs more help,” She says, “but no ambulance or emergency room?”

“We just need to take him back to our motel room, ma’am,” Seth answers.

“Oh, it’s just Becky. Do you have any way of getting back?” They shake their heads, and look awkwardly at her. “Well, I was closing anyway, and I think he’s small enough to get in my car now, but I don’t know if I can fit all of us…”

“It’s fine, I can follow behind.” Dean starts taking off his shirt.

“What?”

Seth picks up Roman in a fireman’s carry. “Where’s your car?” 

Becky gapes at his strength. “This way.”

Dean hands her a worn backpack. “Here, keep your car unlocked when we get back.”

She awkwardly takes it. “What?”  But Seth is already running to her tiny car. She unlocks the doors, and they manage to get the huge werewolf to barely fit in her back seat. They get in, and Seth anxiously holds the backpack as he keeps glancing back to the still unconscious wolf. “You’re going to have to tell me where this place is.” She says.

“Oh yeah, yeah.” He says, and they drive off.

They take the highway, largely silent this time of night. It’s quiet in the car as well, since Seth is vibrating from shock. Every once in a while, Roman transforms back little by little, though still not all smoothly. 

“So...how is that guy-” Becky begins to ask, before she catches a giant shadow out of the corner of her eye. She looks, and there he is. The wolf is nearly the size of the vehicle, and manages to keep pace with his powerful back legs. She makes eye contact with his reflective yellow eyes, and screams. 

Seth rolls down the window. “Follow BEHIND, DEAN,” he shouts, and the wolf falls back. “Sorry, um, you’re going to take this exit.”

It takes a while for Becky to unglue her head from the back of seat and blink. They drive past run abandoned factories, and party stores with bars in the windows. Train cars with elaborate graffiti scrawled across them, and small churches with peeling paint. Even this far in the city, there is patches of forests trying to reclaim their land, dark enough that a werewolf could easily slip through undetected on his way home. Seth soon says they’re close, but for now they’re stopped at a train. Time to breathe.

Becky leans back on her headrest. She wondered what would happen if a cop pulled her over. A half-transformed and injured werewolf bleeding in her backseat, one as a human on the edge of a breakdown in her passenger seat, and one as a wolf right behind her car. Just now, that last one has emerged from the shadows and is looking in on its alpha, fogging up her back window with his huge nose. Even if it means no harm, her heart is still in her throat.

He walks around to Seth’s side, and places a paw on his window. Seth’s still in such shock, he can’t keep his eyes off the train rolling by. Becky notices, and rolls down his window. Dean licks him, and finally Seth relaxes, even cracking a smile. 

_ Look at them.  _ Becky thinks.  _ Look at how gentle they are. _

The wolf then walks around the front, and Becky rolls down her own window. 

As Dean looks in on Roman from the driver’s side, Becky tentatively reaches out, and pats his fur. Dean jumps and looks at her. She jerks back her hand. He goes up to her window. Their eyes lock for a moment; she reaches out again, and pets his head. He closes and bows his head. 

“You’re so soft,” she murmurs. 

Seth stares wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. Never has such tenderness ever been shown from a human to a wolf. Never would a human put her hand so near a werewolf’s mouth.

The train passes by, the signal goes up, and they drive home.

 

They park in the gravel lot, and Becky helps Seth drag Roman out of the backseat, which is covered with blood and fur. Roman’s a bit easier to pick up now that he’s healed somewhat in the ride over, and Seth puts him back in the fireman’s carry. They run straight to the door of their room, on the far right of the little courtyard of the single level motel. While balancing Roman on his shoulders and one hand, he fumbles for the key, which Becky takes, and opens the door for them.

As Seth places Roman on the bed, Becky turns on the only light, a small lamp on the bedside table, and looks aghast at the room. One bed, a tiny television, and the table is about all the three men have to share. Cracks run up and down the walls, and the carpet is irrevocably stained. She goes to the bathroom for a towel, and sees a substantial hole in the plaster next to the decrepit shower. The two towels she grabs are stiff, and she wonders if they would even help.

She brings them back, immediately throwing one over Roman’s hips before he turns any more human and she sees anything she doesn’t need to. She sits next to him on one side of the bed opposite Seth, and unwraps the bandages.

Werewolves were such a faraway phenomenon before Becky started working at a fighting venue. She’d never been in the proximity of them until she heard the roar of their fighting from the backroom as she mixed drinks, trying to act unfazed by the creeping prospect that one could potentially follow her home after the fight. It could chase her car and hop in front of it in the dead of night, not be phased by being crashed into head on, and reach in to the rubble to pick her up. It was a fear very much realized when her eyes met Dean’s on the highway.

That was a threshold, and now she’s crossed it.

Dean walks in as Becky cleans Roman’s wounds more, dabbing away gently with the towel. “How is he?” He asks breathlessly.

“He’s not awake yet, but he’s doing a lot better,” Seth answers.

“Thank God.” Dean collapses to the floor and kneels next to the bed, his head laying in his arms.

Becky seems to be working in a trance, soundlessly working on Roman. Now that her fear has passed, she’s fascinated by the mechanisms at work in the wolf turning back to a human under her hand. It’s limbs are still somewhat elongated, it’s face a tad too long, human hair on its head contrasting with the fur falling out in patches, giving it a mangy appearance. This creature before her is at once both revolting and lovely, halfway between man and god.

At the same time, Seth and Dean, now sure that Roman is safe, stare curiously at the young bartender who burst in at their most dire moment, used otherworldly powers to save their alpha, took them back here and now is nursing him back to health. She seems to have been hand delivered by angels, or maybe is one herself.

“I think he’ll be good now, if you’d like to go home,” Seth offers.

There is a pause. “I don’t want to until he wakes up,” Becky murmurs.

Seth and Dean look at each other and at her. Dean can still feel on his face where she touched him earlier. 

Finally, a human Roman is laying on the bed. His face twitches and he groans a little. Becky stands so Dean and Seth can gather around him. His eyes open and he smiles as they laugh in relief and hug him. By the TV, she can’t help but smile at the scene. She makes her way to the door to try to slip out unnoticed.

Roman does notice her, though. “Hello, who are you?”

Seth answers for her. “That’s Becky, and she brought you here and saved you!”

“Oh it’s-” She starts.

Dean interjects, “We didn’t know what to do after that fight, and she came in and helped us!”

“How?”

Becky honestly wasn’t sure what drove her to overcome her fear and follow them out the back. “I work at Mulligan’s, and uh, I dunno, it was a bad fight, so I thought I’d check on you guys,” Becky explains.

“What can we do to thank you?” Roman asks.

“Clean out my car?”

Roman smiles. “Where do you live?”

“Oh you don’t have to, that was a joke.”

“No, we’ll do it. Where do you live?”

Becky pauses, and laughs. “Fine, uh, can I get something to write with?” Dean gets her a pen and a piece of paper. “Here’s my address, email, and number,” She says as she scratches the information down, “my roommate goes to work at nine on Monday, so you guys can come after then.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” As Becky edges out the door, Seth and Dean appear in the frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Seth repeats, his big eyes beginning to brim with tears again.

“And I’m really sorry for scaring you earlier,” Dean says.

Becky embraces him. “It’s okay, you didn’t scare me off.” She opens an arm and collects Seth as well. “You guys, I don’t know, you guys are really special. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Dean and Seth could’ve stayed in that hug forever, but they let her go,and they watch as their miracle drives away into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Renee rarely looked at her mentions on Twitter. Usually they were filled with people angry at her for her advocating for werewolf rights. She clicked on them now, on her flight home from the disastrous Crossed Wires interview. One glance and they were the same as always.

“@ReneeMelvin look at what a werewlf did to my dog!!”

“My son was killed by one last year @ReneeMelvin. Do you advocate for THIS?”

“Three of my cattle were killed by a wolf last month. You care about werewolves having ‘friends’ but you don’t care about farmers livelihoods??? @ReneeMelvin”

And then the checkmarks roll in as well.

“@ReneeMelvin sees no issue with groups of werewolves hanging around each other. Would you want multiple wolves roaming around your neighborhood? Tell me in the replies.”

“@ReneeMelvin lives in a dream world where dangerous animals can simply be friends.”

“Check out my newest vid DECIMATING @ReneeMelvin ‘s claim that packs aren’t dangerous.”

Graphic images accompanied some of these tweets, of dogs and cats in pieces, allegedly by a werewolf. Renee knew these people were hurt, and they’re acting out their frustration. Her colleagues at Alford were battling each of the claims sent to their own mentions, and so were others. They cited the numerous studies on lycanthropy done by the Sierra Institute and other similar sources. They told them how the more someone infected transforms, the more control they can have over their wolf body; that since they need calories after each transformation, if they had a steady source of food they wouldn’t need to hunt; that some studies suggest that packs lessen the threat of deadly attacks.

How can you tell someone who had just lost their son these things, Renee wondered. How can studies and research make up for what was lost.

Renee sighed. When she joined the Alford Group she wasn’t planning on devoting her time to werewolf advocacy. But, laws were passed, and fell through, and passed, and people were more polarized since werewolf news became such good clickbait.

She knew the Sierra Institute have come closer to a cure now, to be released to the press in the next couple of days. It will be futile. Soon her mentions will be filled again, this time with the sentiment that the only cure for a werewolf is a bullet. She just knew they will.

Renee pulled the results out of a special envelope, and looked at the the data. Out of 150 wolves tested upon, 15% showed some improvement after receiving the treatment, while 28% showed no signs of change. The information was scant, as it always tended to be from Sierra; nothing about what “improvement” meant or what the treatment process was. Something caught her attention,and she pulled out her phone to do the math. The results left about 86 test subjects unaccounted for.  _ What happened with them?  _ She thought.  _ Maybe they were controls? And they’re fine? Or would the control group be listed, and these were others?  _ The number 86 dug its way through Renee’s brain like a worm for the rest of the flight.

* * *

 

Monday morning, bright and early, the three werewolves stood on the back porch of a gray house practically sharing a wall with the house to one side of it. The paint was peeling and the backyard was small and patchy, full of dandelions. After waiting a bit, Roman knocked again. They all looked around nervously; maybe she didn’t mean it, or forgot, and someone was bound to notice them sooner or later.

They finally heard shuffling inside, and the door was unlocked and opened. “Hi,” Becky said, bleary eyed and a coffee cup in her hand. 

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Good morning!” 

“Come in, come on in,” Becky said as she opened the door a little wider, “My roommate just left.”

Seth and Dean looked at Roman, and he hesitantly took the door and walked in, the other two following behind.

“Do yeh guys want coffee? I made a full pot.”

They murmured a yes as they looked around the kitchen. An oven, oven mitts, a tea kettle, a fridge, a microwave, all tiny things that Roman, Seth, and Dean hadn’t been around in years. Dean saw that Becky had the same crockpot as his mom’s, yellow flowers printed along the white edge. The sunlight shown through the curtains, just like it did in Roman’s family’s kitchen. The countertops were tile, Seth could hear his own mom complaining about how hard they were to clean. They were afraid to touch or speak, almost as if they were in a museum. In a small way, they were home again.

Becky looked at them looking at her kitchen. “Mugs are in here,” she told them, opening a cupboard, “and coffee is there, creamer’s next to it.” She took a sip from her own mug. She almost wanted to laugh at how slow and awkwardly the men moved around her kitchen, but it was also a little sad, in a way. When everyone had their coffee, she asked “How about a tour of the house?”

“Okay,” Roman answered.

“Do they talk, too, or just at night?”

“We can talk, yeah,” Dean said.

“Well you guys were definitely more chatty the last time we saw each other.” They chuckled. “Except you,” Becky directed at Roman, “you’re looking a lot better.”

“Thanks to you.”

Becky shrugged it off, and proceeded to give them the grand tour. They weren’t very talkative here either. Almost every room they went to they observed in much as the same way as the kitchen, in awe-filled silence. They would reach out and touch the walls, the furniture, or the curtains. Small touches, at times barely grazing the surface. Becky didn’t say anything, just letting them have the time they needed. She wondered what lives werewolves must have, what all they were forced to leave behind.

Once they were done with the tour, they returned to the kitchen. Becky suggested that they get lunch started, and the three were astonished. Lunch too? Made in this wondrous kitchen? 

She asked if they would help, and they all clamoured to do so. Becky joked that they were finally awake, and started searching around for something to make. Pulling out carrots and potatoes, she suggested a stew. Cutting boards and knives were taken out and everyone had a job to do. Roman was on meat, and Seth and Dean were on veggies. Becky enjoyed standing in the middle and ordering the large men around. 

There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind for only a moment if the food would be tainted in any way. It bubbled up whenever she saw the small tattoo on their right cheeks. She shoved it away whenever they turned and talked to her, smiling and laughing, and finally so comfortable. It’d to have been impossible anyway, right?

When everything was bubbling away in the crock pot, everyone went back to check on the car in the garage. Becky went back in for her vacuum as the rest started to scoop out fur on to the floor. 

After being told to relax and that they had it covered, Becky pulled out a lawn chair and plopped down in it just outside of the garage. She even put on sunglasses, and grinned as she watched the strapping men clean out her car. After the vacuuming was done, they retrieved a bucket of soapy water. Dean and Roman tried to get at the blood as much as they could as Seth swept up the rest of the fur.

When they claimed it was all cleaned up, Becky made a show of strutting over. The three stood straight, trying to play along, but also genuinely hopeful that she would approve. She was a bit over the top in dipping her head into the backseat, taking a big sniff, and running two of her fingers along the seat and checking them for grime. She got out and leaned one arm on the roof and looked at them, betraying no emotion, for a good five seconds.

Finally she said, “Looks okay. Stew time?”

 

Seth wanted to cry halfway through his second bowl. How had they lived on late night diner food for this long? The others felt the same way. How soul healing it was to eat something they helped make in the kitchen they stood in. They crowded together on one end of the dining room table, the only sounds being the stew being slurped and gobbled up, and spoons clanking against the bowls. Becky watched them bemused from her side.

“You like it?” She asked as Dean got up for his third bowl.

“It’s so good!” He exclaimed.

“It’s really delicious,” Roman chimed in as he sopped up the rest of his with some bread and butter.

After they finished lunch Becky insisted on them staying longer. Seth, Dean, and Roman were a bit surprised, but obliged. Seth had noticed the record player in the living room, and immediately took the chance to go through her vinyl collection. They all sat around, and were amused by his enthusiasm. Every so often he’d pick one out and show it to them, remarking on its importance.

After almost every one Becky would point out, “Yes I know, that’s why I bought it!” But it didn’t deter him, he just kept on chattering away.

Eventually Seth picked out one for them to listen to, and hopped on the couch with Dean and Roman. They squished together, casually leaning on and touching each other. It was so effortless, their intimacy, as if they were each a limb of one being, the same blood flowing easily through each of them. Becky was content with simply watching the three of them interact, but they were also so interested in her.

“That was incredible what you did the other night,” Roman said, “Did you ever consider becoming a doctor?”

Becky laughed awkwardly. “My parents did.” She paused to remind Dean where the bathroom was. 

“But you didn’t?”

She shrugged and looked down. “No...I mean, I couldn’t even stay in the same country as them,” she said, “and school wasn’t for me. I like my job, and I’m good at it, so why spend more money on something I don’t need.”

Roman and Seth agreed. Becky treaded carefully with her question, unsure what they’d be comfortable with in talking about before. “Did you guys ever go to uni?” She asked.

“NOPE.” Seth announced.

“I did, and it was okay,” said Roman, “I don’t know about Dean.”

Dean returned. “What about me?”

“We’re talking about how much you love dick,” Seth joked.

Dean fell on top of him. “Oh yeah, I can’t get enough.”

“Did you go to college?” Roman asked.

“For like a year.”

And they left it at that. They decided to put it on a movie, which bided a couple hours more for the guys to stay in this small bit of heaven. Becky wanted to be around them a little while longer as well, something about their relationship was almost utopian, and calming. The way they interacted, it was so casual yet revolutionary. Just those three against the world.

When they left, the house was gray and empty once again, and Becky couldn’t help but feel the same way as she picked up after their day. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Seth and Dean chattered happily nearly the entire way back across town. Street after street they walked, Dean talked about all the little details he noticed and loved in the house, and Seth just couldn’t let go of those records. Roman lagged behind, silent behind his surgical mask, and blinking in the cheerful sun. He waited for the lull in the conversation, but a little thankful that they were such talkers. They didn’t even notice that he hadn’t said much.

When Seth had finished talking about the last record in Becky’s collection, and Dean had finished his speech about the shower head, Roman spoke up. They were a mile or so from the motel, in a large wooded cemetery.

“How would it feel if we could go back to having all that?”

“Well, it would be nice,” Dean answered.

“Yeah, it’d be pretty great, dude,” joined Seth, “um, why? It’s not like we can.”

Roman paused. “I could.”

Seth and Dean’s stomachs sunk. “Yeah?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Roman sighed and started walking again, suddenly unable to face them. “I don’t know if you guys have been paying attention to the news lately, but um, “ he swallowed, “the Sierra Institute has been developing a cure for, basically for being a werewolf.”

“Yeahh?” Dean said again.

“And I’m thinking of going out there to see if I could get in on that.”

The sun glittered through the canopy as they all chewed on the inside of their cheeks to maintain emotional control. Seth and Dean paced away for a bit.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Seth asked, “How?”

“Well, before this happened to me, I...played football. And I had made sort of a career out of it. Not for very long, and it was up in Canada, so there was probably no way you guys would’ve heard of me or anything, but I did make a little money from that and-”

“What?” Dean interrupted.

“-and I was thinking of taking that and using it to be cured of this.”

Seth burst “Why?” 

“Because,” Roman raised his voice, “because waking up after that last fight, and seeing how you guys reacted to what happened to me? That hurt me worse than what Baron did to me, and knowing what other guys out there would do if they saw how broken up you two get? I know I can’t handle it.”

“How would leaving us for that shitty institute help then?”

“It’s for your good, I promise.”

“No. How would that help us, Roman?”

“So you guys could move on.”

A soft breeze rustled the branches above them.

Roman continued, “Before we were all together, I had a fight with this guy called, at least we called him, Taker. He was pretty old, and this fight, I guess I was too tough on him…”

“Wait, Rome,” Said Dean, “Did you retire Taker?” They were referring to Undertaker, who seemed to have went by his former job title before he was turned. He had been a legend in the fighting circles, until one day he’d disappeared from the rings. No one knew who was the wolf who’d finally took him down, until now.

Roman took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did. I was his last fight. And seeing him, laying there- he tried lifting his head, and it fell back down, and his breath was so shallow,” The memory flashed in front of his eyes as he was talking, “his eyes were wide open and scared. You could tell it was painful and, if last time was hard on you guys to see, then, y’all, I don’t want to think about what seeing me go like that would do to you guys.”

Seth and Dean still couldn’t look at him as he was talking. Dean scowled and stared down as Seth kicked the dirt off a tombstone inlaid in the ground.

“And going through all of that made me realize, if I gotta go, I don’t want to go like that. It’s been a while since my bite, and I don’t have a lot of time left. I don’t want to die in the ring, you guys, and if it’s possible, I don’t want to die as a werewolf.”

Dean began inhaling and exhaling quickly. “What about us then? So, we gotta go like that because you have the money not to?

“Dean.”

“You could’ve used that money to take care of us! Insead you’re using it to abandon us. That place isn’t going to cure you, man, it’s going to take your money and give you a lethal injection.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that they’re going to cure you! And what if you do get cured, will you come back for us? Or are you going to try to go back to your old life and be a big ass football player again?”

“Jon.”

That one word froze the blood in Dean’s veins the instant it was uttered. He became white.

“I don’t know what you think I could’ve done with this money. Buy us a big house, far away from all this? It wouldn’t have lasted this long.” 

“Yeah but,” Dean rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, “You could’ve made it a little better for us.”

“If I used that money like you’re saying, I probably never would’ve met you guys in the first place.”

“It just could’ve been better for us, that’s all.” Dean buried his face into his mask, hugged himself, and starting walking away.

Roman came closer to Seth. “What are you thinking about?”

“This is a lot to throw at us, Rome,” Seth admitted, “these past few years, what were they to you? While we were all together, were you thinking about how to get away from us?”

Roman was stoic. “Absolutely not.”

“But you’re jumping at the first chance you get to leave us all behind.”

“Tyler,” Roman cooed. The word washed over Seth. It warmed him rather than shocking him, like hearing his old name did for Dean. “I would never really leave you guys behind,” he lowered his voice, “and if something did happen, I’ll be sure to make sure to send something you guys’ way, to help you out.”

“Okay, Joe,” Seth said, and the two began to follow Dean back to the motel.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Renee bit at a particularly bad hangnail on her thumb as she waited for her call to be transferred to the head researcher listed on the results from the Sierra Institute. The envelope itself lay before her on her desk, on top of a pile of other files and papers yet to be sorted. Her desktop background calmed her a little; it was a picture of her new puppy playing with her nieces. The puppy had cheered up her lonely condo quite a bit, though of course quite the handful.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered on the other side.

“Hi, Anne Gagel?” Renee said, “It’s Renee Melvin from Alford. I was just calling to inquire about the results of the recent experimentations for a cure for lycanthropy?”

“Are you representing the concerns of the Alford Group?”

“No, um, it’s something only I have been concerned about.”

A pause. “Okay?”

“I noticed that only a small number of participants were accounted for in the results you provided for us. I was wondering what happened with the rest?”

“Why?” The way it was said sounded cold to Renee.

“I just think that the results you gave are a little vague, and I would like to know what happened to the other werewolves.”

“Again, Alford as a whole isn’t concerned with this matter?”

“I’m afraid not. Does that cause any issues?” Renee started chewing on her thumbnail this time.

“Legally we aren’t obligated to tell just you,” Anne stated, “the results were inconclusive. That’s all you need to know.”

“But what does that mean? Are the test subjects all right? Why is such a large sample size inconclusive?”

“The test subjects are under our perfectly capable care. If you have any further inquiries we may contact your superiors about your attempt to obtain sensitive information.”

The last statement was particularly chilling. Resigned, Renee said “No, I think that will be enough. Thank you for your time.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too.” Renee hung up. She looked back at the cute picture of her puppy, Biscuit. She figured that if she said that Alford had been wondering as a collective she might’ve received more information. Then again, they also might’ve wanted to speak directly to her superiors about the matter, and that would’ve fell through even quicker.

She decided to begin her own research, and clicked on her browser. This time, she would not contact anyone else about her concerns.

 

It had been a couple weeks since Roman brought up his plans, and Dean never quite accepted his reasons for doing so. He began sleeping on the porch area just outside their room. Seth was the opposite. He felt the need to be closer to Roman as much as he cold. The tension would be lifted every once in a while, when they’d crack jokes and reminisce on the time they spent together.

They were the only ones in Grand Coney late one night. For once, they didn’t eat much. They only picked at their food in silence.

Finally Roman said, “I just want you both to know that I don’t care if you both move on and be happy and forget about me if I don’t come back. I hope you do. But I also hope that you know, that every day I’m there, and every day after if the cure does work, I will never stop thinking about you guys.”

Dean blinked a lot and pulled his mask back up, staring out the huge window into the deep dark night. 

After a while Seth asked, “But, could you maybe find us again, if it does work? Maybe help us get cured too?”

Roman nodded. “Of course. As best I could.”

Silence again for a good few minutes. Roman leaned across the table and put his hands on each of their upper arms. Seth put his hand over Roman’s and stared back, not wanting this night, this moment, to end. Dean still looked out the window, but didn’t want it to end either.

“I love you.” Roman murmured.

“I love you too.” Seth’s face scrunched up as he could feel tears coming.

Dean’s voice was muffled, and they could barely make out the “Loveyoutoo.”

It was a proper goodbye. A goodbye stolen back from the ones unsaid to their family and friends years ago, after one shitty day. One shitty day that eventually led them to each other, and another day, when they’d all be parted. 

When Dean and Seth returned to the motel, they turned and saw that Roman hadn’t walked back with them. At some point during the walk, he’d simply stopped, and left quietly in another direction. Without a word, they unlocked the door, and entered their room.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean still wouldn’t sleep back inside after Roman’s departure. It didn’t matter much, as summer was soon approaching anyway. Seth had to get used to sleeping in his own bed again, an uneasy task as it would be the first time in the six years since they had been together. There wasn’t a lot to talk about anymore since Roman had left. The chattiness had been a lot easier with him in the background. When they did talk it was for planning the next fight and what to do for food.

And the occasional rant. “Years!” Dean would exclaim. “Years! And all we get is ‘Hey guys I was a motherfuckin’ football player, and even though no one’s heard of me, I got all this money, and I’m leavin’ for some snake oil, magic fucking potion, from some bullshit school! Bye bitches!”

“I know.”

“Oh and even though I had no reason to, I decided to get in on the fights! And get my fuckin’, face chewed up even though I could’ve paid not to, just for shits and giggles!’ Motherfucker.” He spit.

“Yeah.”

“For shits and giggles. I’m out here doing this because, uh, I got no fancy football money. I got no fancy job. I’m out here, surviving. I started doing this, or else I’d starve. And I assume same goes for you.”

“It does.”

It went nearly this exact same way every time. Dean was always focussed on the money. A lot of his gripes with Roman though, would’ve had to have been brought up in talking about Before the Bite. 

It was werewolf code to not talk about Before the Bite, the mythical time before one was infected. Rarely anyone even used their old name anymore, even that was too much tied to the past. The little information that Roman did give them was too much by most werewolf standards. This code didn’t make up for the hurt and loss the two of them felt, and Seth allowed Dean to vent whenever he needed to.

 

Dean stared into space almost unblinking even as he was going through the pain of transforming. His eyes slowly became sunken like a dog’s and his jaw stretched, some human teeth falling out to make way for the ones of a carnivore. Seth was wary, they hadn’t spoken nearly the entire day before now. They were going against McIntyre again tonight, and this time he would be with Ziggler. Seth could feel that revenge was on the table, but all he wanted to do was get paid and go.

As soon as the bell rang Dean dove towards Drew, and Drew was ready for him. He caught Dean by a good amount of skin on his neck. Dean jerked his head back with all his strength, taking Drew off his paws and loosening his grip. He bit into the flesh of Drew’s own neck, and off and on again they would whip each other around in a feral dance. Only about a minute in, and blood had already started spilling.  

Meanwhile, Dolph lunged at Seth, but even if he wasn’t out for revenge, he wasn’t going to be taken off guard again. He fell back on his back and kicked with his hind legs, deflecting the golden blond wolf in midair and sending him careening into the back wall.

As Ziggler scrambled to get back on his paws, Seth caught a quick glimpse of Dean. With the ferocity of the punishment he was delivering on Drew, he wondered if it had been a tad too long since Dean had last transformed, and if his friend was still behind those monstrous eyes. There was no time to dwell on that, though, as Dolph lunged at him again. 

Seth got up on his rear legs and caught him full on, and the two tussled on the ground. At the same time Dean reared up and slashed McIntyre with his claws. McIntyre slashed back, and soon they were ripping each other’s chest open. Chunks of fur and blood fell on the floor with each swipe. Finally, Dean landed a good one on Drew’s jaw, whipping him back. Seth kicked Ziggler off of him.

He ran to see if he could help Dean, who seemed to have started succumbing to the giant wolf’s blows. Dolph wasted no time, and hopped onto Seth’s back. Seth bucked, sending Dolph straight into Drew. Catching a second wind, Dean dove into the pile. Seth didn’t join him, instead stepping back in shock at the ferocity with which Dean tore and bit at the two wolves. 

Eventually, Drew’s mouth hung open at an odd angle, his tongue lolling and he slumped back. Dolph tried one last attempt to kick Dean, but he caught his leg squarely and snapped it between his teeth as if it were nothing more than a chicken bone. Dolph yelped and crumpled next to Drew. Neither of them had quite started to transform back yet, so the bell wasn’t rung, but Seth trotted over to make sure Dean didn’t do any serious damage.

And suddenly Dean had him by the throat.

Some people in the crowd gasped. They pressed themselves up against the chicken wire, enthralled. Seth whimpered and lowered his haunches, his small tail between his legs. He raised his front paw a bit, and Dean threw him to the ground. Seth cowered low and tried to crawl away, only to be grabbed by the scruff of his neck and thrown into the side of the cage. The crowd pressed near where he landed leapt back and screamed. Dean stalked over to him, and dug his paws into his fur. Seth winced, and began to transform back as a last ditch effort to protect himself. Finally the bell rang.

 

“Where the fuck did that come from?!” Seth yelled in the parking lot as they exited, “who- what- motherfucker! Are you fucking- Fuck!”

Dean looked back coldly.

“Dean- what was that about?”

“I needed the bigger split.”

“Why.”

Dean took out his mask and snapped it back on his face. “I was fine by myself before, I’ll be fine by myself again.”

“Dean, shit dude, we couldn’t have talked about this before? Before fucking me over tonight?”

“If we did, you would’ve begged and cried not for me to leave. Rome’s gone, babe, and it ain’t working out with us. I think you can see it, but don’t want to. So I’m out.”

“We’re friends, though.”

“And I’m a wolf. And wolves can’t always depend on anybody.”

Seth huffed in disbelief. “Who are you? Who the fuck are you? We did perfectly fine depending on each other, for six years, and you’re ready to dump that and go back to the streets.”

Dean raised his arms. “I guess so.”

“I guess I don’t know you at all. And I never did.”

The statement took each of them aback. It was haunting, the fact that really all they ever knew, really knew of each other, was their old names. Nothing about where they were from, what high school they went to, parents, siblings, nothing. It occurred to the both of them the nature of their relationship. Not as werewolves, but as humans. They stared. The person in front of them who shared a tiny room and even a bed, was basically a stranger.

And maybe it did make sense, why Roman left one day basically out of the blue. Why his background was so...strange to learn about. Six years together, and he told them something that should’ve been clear the day they met. Now Dean was leaving as well. Maybe that would’ve made sense if Seth knew more about his history.

They were dumbstruck. Dean slumped his shoulders, unable to explain exactly why he acted the way he did, and why he was heading off on his own now.

“Okay, I guess. Just go if you want to.” Seth slipped on his own surgical mask. “Goodbye.”

“It’s been good,” Dean offered, “I just think it's a new era for me now, if you understand.”

“Sure.” Seth grimaced and started to leave.

Dean turned in the other direction, and started to walk away as well.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Renee stood on the front steps to Dr. Christopher M. Ryan’s stately home in one of the quieter neighborhoods in Ann Arbor. He had been a researcher at Sierra more than a decade ago, and co-authored some papers on werewolves. He was also one of the few people who worked at Sierra who agreed to speak with her.

Dr. Ryan welcomed her in himself. He was a sweet old man with a soft voice who promptly offered her some tea. She agreed to a cup, and she sat in the living room as he made it. As she waited, a tortoise crawled from its spot by the end table across the room, giving her quite a fright. When it made its way to the kitchen the doctor exclaimed “Francis! You didn’t scare Ms. Melvin, did you?”

After a few minutes he returned with the tea, cucumber sandwiches, and a pack of cookies. “Lovely creatures, tortoises. They are so tranquil, so calming. I have an upstairs one and two in the garden.” He misread Renee’s puzzled expression. “Oh it’s quite all right, even if they did escape, they wouldn’t get very far.” He chuckled.

They began talking about his peculiar pets. Catherine was the old bitty who lived upstairs and Anselm and Albert were his guard tortoises outside. Francis the parlor tortoise was his favorite.

Renee could hardly believe that such a kind man had devoted much of his career to the study of giant, terrifying creatures. His eyes darkened when she turned the conversation to the subject.

“You must understand that I could have worked longer there if I desired. The environment though, well, I just wanted to go home to my tortoises instead.”

“Why?”

Dr. Ryan took a sip of his tea and contemplated for a bit. “It was good work when I was younger, but what we did to those poor wolves...my heart couldn’t take it much longer.”

Renee’s mouth went dry. “Like what?”

“Oh I’m sure it’s much different now. You must remember its been so long since I’ve been there.”

“But what happened while you were there?”

And after deciding that there were basically no repercussions on his end, Dr. Christopher M. Ryan told her.

First off, the Institute had decided decades ago, when beginning their focus on lycanthropy they had decided that in order to contain several creatures who biologically must transform into giant, hard to control beasts once a month was to tranquilize them. The tranquilizer used would keep the recipient fully awake and aware but unable to move throughout and after the transformation. At any point while walking through the ward in which they were kept, one was able to hear the moans of wolves unable to move around as this happening echoing through the hallway.

This was strange considering that one of the studies Dr. Ryan did was about how as long as wolves could transform more than once a month and be able to move around as much as possible, the process shouldn’t be as painful as it was. But, it was the best way without using restraints that the Institute could decide upon.

There also wasn’t enough room for the wolves they kept to be studied, sequestering at times two or three wolves in one room at a time. As humans it was bad enough, but at full transformation there was barely enough room for the researcher to walk around and test on them.

And the tests. They did their best to push the limits of their disease: how long they could go without shifting, how long they could go without eating or sleeping, what were the limits of their healing ability. The effects of various hallucinogens and other drugs on their metamorphosis. They would test something at every stage of the changing process; the terror in the subject’s eyes as syringe after syringe drew closer and pricked them in the middle of their hell, and they couldn’t even open their mouth, particularly haunted Dr. Ryan.

Not many werewolves walked out of the Institute, and even if they did they probably didn’t live very long afterwards. Just long enough, Ryan supposed, to spread the word about what the Institute really did. The only subjects who would participate as his time there went on were usually only recently changed. Oh to bury those poor young men and women, he remembered, who might’ve lived the full lifespan of a werewolf out in the world, even if it was only 11 to 13 years longer. They could’ve figured out how to live fully, even with the laws in place. But it didn’t have to be like this.

“So I much prefer being with my tortoises,” Dr. Ryan concluded, “they give me my much needed peace of mind, you understand.” He fed Francis a slice of cucumber off an untouched sandwich.

Renee stared out of one of the large scenic windows behind her, numb from all that she heard. “So I was right,” she said, “something bad did happen to those werewolves in the last experiments.”

“Noticed that too, eh? When they announced the results of a possible cure? Good catch.” Dr. Ryan said.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Renee reminded him.

“Right, right, well, if it helps any, you must remember it has been quite a while since I have worked there,” he said, “they could have changed the way they do things there. Maybe taking a more humane approach.”

“I don’t know. They refused to give me anymore results of the experiments when I inquired. They threatened to talk to my bosses at Alford about my snooping.” As she looked out, the evening sun shown sweetly upon her light brown skin, giving it an even warmer tone. It gave her almost black eyes a slight shimmer as she held back tears.

Dr. Ryan stood up and gathered the mugs and tray. “I’m very impressed by your empathy for those poor creatures, do you mind telling me where this came from? I don’t know of anyone your age who cares enough to seek out this information, which is why of course I wanted to sit down with you.”

Renee shrugged. “In my time with Alford, I’ve seen how it is for them, and I realized that I can’t sit by while something like this is happening to them.” She sat up straighter. “I’ve decided that I want to do more than appear on T.V. and recite from a script,” she said.

Dr. Ryan smiled. “It’s a pleasure knowing you, Ms. Melvin.”

 

Renee sat in her car, still looking into the sunset that was softly illuminating the righteous anger that was building inside her. She took out her phone and opened Twitter. She quickly penned “The Sierra Institute has been severely abusing werewolves for decades, and nothing has been done about this.” She posted it, turned off her phone, and started her car.

By the time she got home and turned it back on, her phone was flooded with retweets, DMs, and texts from her friends and strangers asking where did this claim come from. There was also a curt email from her work, asking politely if she was available to meet tomorrow morning.


End file.
